“A bad business,” Hoist said, once it was over. “That’s the problem when you have men draw lots to decide who will be hangman. You never know whether the men who are picked have any idea of what they are doing. I’ve always said, if ever I found myself scheduled to die on the gallows, I’d bribe the gaolers to give me some weirdroot or mandrake. At least that way, you wouldn’t suffer.”
He fell quiet. As the drums signalled the end of the execution, and the sergeants shouted orders for the soldiers to return to their duties, the Scarlets dispersed in a sombre mood, each man made mindful of their mortality by their former general’s execution.
To Dieter, it seemed Hoist was right in declaring it a bad business. He would not have wished von Nieder’s death on any man—not even Krug, who with characteristic tenacity had managed to survive the siege at the mill house.
The enmity between Dieter and Krug was as palpable as ever. Even as the Scarlets made their way back to their tents in the eastern quadrant of the encampment that housed General von Grahl’s rapidly growing army, Dieter saw Krug glaring at him from afar. It seemed inevitable there would be a reckoning between them one day.
For Dieter’s part, he hoped it would be sooner rather later. He had grown tired of having to be wary at all times, watching to ensure Krug did not slip a knife between his ribs when he wasn’t looking.
He had toyed with the idea of challenging Krug to a duel. Strictly speaking, duelling between men who were not either of the nobility or officer rank was forbidden. In swordsmen regiments, however, it had long been the practice to turn a blind eye to such restrictions. Although duels to the death were rare, it was not uncommon for men to settle their disputes at the point of a blade.
Upon taking command of the army, however, General von Grahl had made it clear he intended to zealously enforce the strictures against duelling. He had issued a proclamation announcing that, with Hochland in the midst of a “time of peril”, it was no longer permissible for men to risk injury or even death in private quarrels. What was more, the general had made it plain his wishes in the matter would be enforced in the strongest terms possible. Henceforth, any men found duelling, along with any men who were found to have aided the duel, were to be sentenced to death.
The former general, von Nieder, may have been the most prominent figure to be executed, but he had hardly been the first. General von Grahl had shown no compunction when it came to assigning the penalty of death. In the last month, by Dieter’s reckoning, two dozen men had been hanged from the same elm tree for crimes including desertion, looting, theft of army supplies, and a range of other offences.
It was widely understood that the general was doing this as part of a stern policy intended to restore discipline to Hochland’s army. In the dark days of the retreat before the orcs, discipline had been completely lost. The Scarlets had fared relatively well in that regard. Dieter had heard rumours of units that had mutinied and turned on their own commanders. There were tales of entire regiments of deserters fleeing Hochland altogether and trying to cross the border into Ostland or Nordland. There were even tales of cannibalism, of soldiers who in their search for food had turned on each other.
Dieter was not sure whether he believed all the tales he heard. He was learning that gossip was a popular pastime among soldiers—the more outrageous the tale the better. It helped to pass the time and stave off boredom. Dieter had even heard wild rumours that the orc army had bypassed them and was already besieging the gates of Hergig. That last tale at least he completely discounted.
Still, amid all the mad tales of soldiers turned cannibal and wild rumours of the enemy advance, there had been at least one cause for celebration among the Scarlets. Despite theories to the contrary, their regimental commander Captain Harkner had turned out to be very much alive. Having been reunited with his men in the wake of the Scarlets’ stand against the night goblins at the mill house, Captain Harkner had reassumed command—a fact which had come as a relief to many, not least Sergeant Bohlen.
They had lost men, and the progress of the war against the orcs was far from clear, but to Dieter’s mind the fact they had their captain back could only be a good omen. Having recovered from the worst effects of the long retreat from the orcs and the draining siege against the goblins, the Scarlets were once more ready to fight. Meanwhile, all around them, the rest of General von Grahl’s new army was taking shape. Come what may, they were ready to fight the greenskins. Now, it was only a matter of time.
From
The Testimony of General Ludwig von Grahl
(unexpurgated text):
…It is never a pleasant duty to kill a man, much less order him to be executed with a rope of hemp around his neck. Still, in the case of Erich von Nieder, I maintain I had no choice.
Admittedly, I may have exceeded my authority. Von Nieder was a nobleman, with all a nobleman’s rights. Among those, he had the right to be judged by a jury of his peers and the right to appeal to the Count of Hochland to reprieve his sentence. He also had the right to die on the headsman’s block, not to be hanged like a common criminal.
Sadly, I had no choice. There was no question of von Nieder’s guilt. The bags of gold pieces he was carrying when he was captured stilt bore the wax seals that identified them as part of the army paychest. I had already ordered other men hung for less serious offences. If I had let von Nieder go, or allowed him the luxury of any other death, it would have suggested I expected less of those of my own class than I do of the common soldier. If such notions were allowed to spread, it would prove damaging to morale and unity at a time when I am trying to rebuild these men into an effective army.
Von Nieder had to die. It was a hard decision, and I feel sorry for it. But there was no other decision to be made.
Still, I find I feel guilty. Not just for von Nieder, but for the others as well. He was not the first man I had ordered hanged, nor sadly is he likely to be the last. In some ways, it is a worse thing to command a man’s execution than to have to see him die in battle. At least in the latter case, it is the enemy who is responsible.
In the meantime, matters continue apace. My regular consultations with the wizard Emil Zauber have begun to bear fruit. He assures me a series of heavy autumn storms are about to begin, drenching this whole area in rain. At the same time, the orcs have been reported some leagues to the east, moving towards us. With Sigmar’s grace, all my plans may be about to come together.
Accordingly, I have sent a prearranged signal to Count Aldebrand who is at camp some distance southwards, overseeing the muster. I sent the message via carrier-hawk—one of half a dozen such birds the Count gifted to me before I left Hergig. The message the bird carries is brief and to the point:
“We are ready to destroy the enemy. Come north with all due haste.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
COMETH THE HOUR
“Rain,” Hoist snorted in derision as the storm fell to earth around them. “I’d hoped we’d seen the last of a storm like this when we fought those damn night goblins at the mill house. But, no, the curse of the poor infantryman holds good. The gods are taking pleasure pissing down on our shoulders once more.”
It was night, and they were standing guarding the entrance to the army encampment. Hugging his cloak around him as he shivered against the cold, Dieter listened to the beginnings of another one of Hoist’s diatribes with a weary sense of resignation.
“You know what month this is?” Hoist asked, warming to his theme. “It’s Kaldezeit—‘cold time’. Now, I’m not saying it isn’t cold, but you think they’d name these months properly. Rain time would be more apt. It would make more sense.”
“The killing time,” Dieter said, half to himself.
“Hnn? What?” Hoist raised a wet eyebrow.
“The killing time. That’s what they used to call it in the village where I lived. At this time of year, the farmers are making their choice as to which animals they’ll keep over the winter and which ones will be slaughtered. They sla
ughter them now, before the worst of the winter comes, so they don’t have to waste any winter feed on them.”
“Really?” Hoist shook his head in mock wonderment. “You know, you are a constant source of information, Dieter. I’m not saying any of it is actually useful. But you know some things, to give you your due.”
Hoist laughed as though he had said something enormously funny. Then, squinting to see through the rain falling in great sheets around them, he stared down the trail and suddenly unsheathed his sword.
“I see lights in the distance,” Hoist said, his good humour evaporating to be replaced by a more businesslike manner. “Someone’s coming. Go get the others.”
Turning away, Dieter ran to a nearby stand of trees where the rest of the men on guard duty were sheltering from the rain. Seeing the friendly faces of Gerhardt and Rieger, he nodded and hurried past them to the spot where Captain Harkner was standing with Sergeant Bohlen.
“Captain, come quickly! We saw lights in the distance! Someone is coming!”
Motioning for the other men to follow them, Captain Harkner ran with Dieter to rejoin Hoist. Behind them, the other Scarlets spread out in a well-practiced pattern, doing their best to stay hidden from sight until the nature of the individuals headed towards them could be ascertained.
“There’s a good few of them,” Hoist said as Dieter and the captain appeared alongside him. “They’re using torches and they seem to be moving in good order, so I don’t think they’re greenskins. Could be they are a new batch of reinforcements.”
Further up the trail, the lights had grown brighter. As the new arrivals drew nearer, the sound of hoof-beats made it clear they were travelling on horseback. The light of their torches snaked down the trail behind them as though some fiery dragon was headed toward the encampment.
“Who goes there?” Hoist called out loudly as the first of the riders came closer.
“The bodyguards of His Excellency Aldebrand Ludenhof, Count of Hochland and all related territories,” came back the gruff reply. “Why? Who’s asking?”
The riders appeared out of the rain, revealing a half a dozen knights wearing the Count’s livery on their shields and panther skins around their shoulders. Coming to a stop before the Scarlets, the knights’ leader raised a hand in salute and lifted his visor to look down at them.
“I am Graf Ernst von Toppel of the Knights Panther, leader of the bodyguard to His Excellency the Count of Hochland. Who’s in charge here?”
“I am,” Captain Harkner stepped forward. “Captain Harkner of the 3rd Hochland Swordsmen. Well met, sir knight.”
“Well met, captain,” the knight nodded. “Count Aldebrand travels with us. He wishes to be taken to meet General von Grahl at once.”
“The Count is with you?” Harkner appeared surprised. Catching himself, he began again more calmly. “Forgive my question. It is a matter for the Count as to where he goes and when. I speak only as a soldier, to whom the Count’s presence here seems a good omen.”
“Let us hope so,” the knight said. “It is a good time for omens, I think. The latest reports we have received say the orc army is only a few leagues north of here. Let us hope the Count will lead us to victory. Alongside General von Grahl, of course.”
“Of course,” Captain Harkner agreed. He gestured to his men to clear a path for the Count and his entourage. “If you will follow me, I will send a runner to tell General von Grahl that the Count has arrived.”
From
The Testimony of General Ludwig von Grahl
(unexpurgated text):
“…You have a plan to defeat the greenskins?” the Count asked, once we were alone in my command tent. “You will forgive our surprise, von Grahl, but we thought your plan was to contain the enemy, not destroy him. I thought you didn’t have enough men to achieve that grandiose aim.”
“It is true I don’t have as many men as I’d like, Your Excellency,” I replied. “And, certainly, the plan is not without its risks. But circumstances have come together in a way which I believe will allow us to defeat the orcs in open battle, not just hold them.”
“Ah, yes, the rain.” The Count turned back to the maps spread out on the table before us, his quick sharp eyes taking in the details. “You think it will make the difference?”
“I think it presents us with our best chance. I have chosen the battleground with the conditions in mind. The men have been drilled with a specific battle plan in mind. Nothing can ever be guaranteed in war, but they are as ready as they will ever be.”
“Good.”
Upon his arrival, the Count’s servants had left a long wooden case on the table. He laid his hand across it now.
“You have done well, von Grahl. Whatever the outcome of the battle tomorrow, it will never be said that you shirked in your duty. You are a credit to Hochland. With that in mind, I wish to reward you.”
He opened the case, taking a sword from inside it. Removing the sword from its sheath, he revealed a rune-encrusted blade of obvious dwarf workmanship. It was no match for the runefang at his hip, but still the sword was a magnificent weapon.
“I took this from the province’s armoury before I left Hergig. It is a mighty weapon, given to the Counts of Hochland some centuries ago in return for a service the Count of the time had performed for one of the dwarf holds. It seemed fitting that our general should ride into battle with such a blade.”
He handed the sword to me. Testing its weight, I found it light and responsive. At the same time, I could feel the power inside it, like a coiled serpent ready to strike.
“My liege… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Know only that this gift is a sign of my faith. I believe in your plan, von Grahl. It will be our honour to ride by your side tomorrow.”
He turned to look back at the plans. “The battle lines are drawn. Now, the fate of Hochland is in the hands of the gods…”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FACING THE ENEMY
“Men of Hochland,” the general had said earlier that morning as he delivered a final speech to the assembled troops under his command, “today is a day that will live long in the memory of our people. Today is the day when we will sweep the greenskins aside. Today is the day when we will win a crushing victory.”
At those words, a cheer had rung out among the men. In his place among the ranks of the Scarlets, Dieter heard a word repeated by the soldiers around him, chanted almost, until it became like a heartbeat to which the entire army responded.
“Victory!” they said, cheering. “Victory! Victory!”
A few hours later, he remembered those words as the Scarlets stood on a low ridge overlooking open fields. Last night, after a conference with Count Aldebrand, General von Grahl had abruptly ordered the army to break camp. He had marched them north, telling his men to take up position on a line of hills and ridges set facing a broad expanse of open country. On the other side of the fields, the greenskin army was already massing.
Looking down at the enemy army, Dieter was struck by how greatly the Hochlanders were outnumbered. It was hard to judge the matter with any accuracy, but by his rough estimate he reckoned the greenskins outnumbered them at least two to one—perhaps by as much as a factor of three to one if his estimate was out. Whatever their precise numbers, the sheer scale of the enemy force arrayed against the Hochlander army was terrifying.
As he waited for the battle to begin, Dieter cast his mind back to the previous night and the encounter with Count Aldebrand. If anything, calling it an encounter flattered the event. In reality, Dieter had caught nothing more than a brief glimpse of the Count as a party of Scarlets escorted the Count and his bodyguard to meet General von Grahl. The moment they got within the camp, the Scarlets had been dismissed and told to return to guard duty while a phalanx of greatswords took up escort duty in their stead.
Dieter supposed it was a matter of protocol. Despite their illustrious reputation as a fighting unit, the Scarlets were apparently judged too
humdrum a regiment to be allowed the prestigious task of escorting their ruler. For Dieter’s part, he took no offence at the snub. It was enough to him that, after eighteen years of life, he had finally caught his first glimpse of royalty.
It had been hard to see much of the Count among the sheeting rain, but from what Dieter had seen he seemed every bit the powerful, imperious ruler he had been led to expect. The Count was a tall, thin man, but there was no hiding his strength—both in his limbs and in the cold fire of his eyes. He had appeared to be something of a haughty fellow, although in Dieter’s experience most aristocrats were like that.
A hawk had sat perched on the Count’s shoulder. It was a hunting bird, no doubt raised from the eggshell to obey its master. The Count had long been famous for his collection of hunting birds. Even more impressive was the weapon Dieter saw sheathed at the Count’s left hip. Dieter had never seen it before, nor even hoped to, but there was no mistaking the identity of the Count’s sword. It was a runefang, one of the twelve ancient magical blades which, according to legend, had been forged by the dwarf runesmith Alaric the Mad at the dawn of the Empire.
Seeing the Count’s runefang, even with the blade sheathed, had been enough to make Dieter’s breath catch in his throat. Its very presence seemed to promise victory.
In the cold light of morning, as Dieter waited with the rest of the army for battle to begin, he wondered whether the promise he had seen in the presence of the runefang was not just wishful thinking. They were facing so many greenskins it was hard to believe victory was possible.
Once, the fields below the rise Dieter was standing on had been meant for agriculture. Long before that, they had been forest. They had been cleared by weeks, months or even years of back-breaking labour. Now, it seemed likely they would be given over to more bloody labours.
There was movement in the greenskin lines. Dieter saw a large group of goblin wolf riders detach themselves from the main body of their fellows and start to make their way slowly up the rise. They were headed in the Scarlets’ direction.
[Empire Army 03] - Call to Arms Page 20
